Touched
by Laura Schiller
Summary: 2012 film. What could Fantine have been thinking when Valjean came to her rescue?


Touched

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Les Miserables (2012 film)

Fantine could not believe this was happening. One moment, she had been trapped between two policemen, about to be dragged off to the station for nothing but self-defense; the next moment, a voice rang across the street which she recognized as none other than Mayor Madeleine's – and he was speaking for _her._

"You've done your duty," he declared. "Let her be. She needs a doctor, not a jail!"

Inspector Javert turned to him with a look of cold astonishment. Fantine, meanwhile, shivering in her snow-soaked, flimsy dress, dizzy with fever, hunger, shame and rage, found that her legs could no longer hold her up. Leaning against the side of an unused cart, she refused to meet the eyes of the people around her, most especially Madeleine, who was approaching her as he might a wounded tiger.

"I've seen your face before," he said softly. "Show me some way to help you. How have you come to grief in such a place as this?"

That was too much. Fantine raised her heavy head to glare at him, this man pretending to be kind when every strand of her lost hair, her missing teeth, every degrading touch at the hands of a customer, every winter night outside wearing out her health, could be traced back to him. How could he ask her such a thing, as if he didn't know?

"Monsieur, don't mock me now, I pray," she retorted. "It's hard enough I've lost my pride. _You let your foreman send me away!_"

Anger lent a force to her congested throat and lungs she had not possessed for weeks. His eyes widened; whether at the sound of her voice or at her accusation, she was beyond caring.

"Yes," she repeated. "You were there – and turned aside!"

She remembered how calm and condescending he had been when breaking up her co-workers' interrogation. _Come on, ladies, settle down. This is a factory, not a circus._ How he had walked away, leaving the foreman to _"deal with this"_ as a minor inconvenience. She had been dragged out of the building, literally thrown into the street, calling, screaming, for _Monsieur le Maire_ to hear her side of the story. He hadn't even turned around.

She spat in his face and raised her fists, ready to knock the scoundrel's teeth out. Javert had already arrested her, after all; she might as well give him a reason.

Then she met the Mayor's eyes for the first time all evening, and what she saw stopped her in her tracks.

Up close, leaning down to meet her at eye level, he looked many years older than she remembered. His face was lined around the eyes and mouth, his brown curls streaked with grey, giving the lie to his youthful strength and energy. He had that look she recognized on her own face in puddles and shop windows, the look of someone aged beyond their time. A look that spoke of wasted years and withered hopes.

"Is it true, what I've done?" he murmured, to himself as much as to her. "To an innocent soul? If I had only known then … "

She lowered her hands. She would not strike this man now, even if she had the strength. The fire of her old grudge collapsed into ashes, leaving her colder than ever.

_Oh, Cosette. What wouldn't I do for you? How did loving you lead me to this?_

"My daughter's close to dying," she confessed, thinking of the Thenardier's heartbreaking letter, which had gotten her dismissed in the first place. "If there's a God above, he'd let me die instead."

Monsieur Madeleine looked at her, not as a mayor looks at a prostitute, or a wealthy man at a poor woman, but as a fellow human being who knew the taste of despair as well as she did. Inspector Javert, the other officers, Fantine's fellow streetwalkers, even the bastard who had put the snow down her dress, might have been miles away for all she cared. All she saw was the warmth in this man's eyes, as it blazed up into a bright determination.

"In His name," he said, "My task has just begun. I will see it done."

And with that, he picked her up and cradled her in his arms.

Fantine gasped, but did not protest. Monsieur Madeleine's touch was unlike that of any man she could remember. When her beloved Felix had carried her like this in days gone by, it had made her laugh with delight; when one of the sailors or dock workers she serviced had done it, she had been terrified, feeling her weakness more than ever in their rough, possessive hands. Monsieur Madeleine did not frighten her; even though he had not asked her permission, there was nothing the least bit impolite about his manner. Just a simple, matter-of-fact acknowledgement that, wherever they were going, she could not walk alone.

He was warm as a furnace. She leaned against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

"But – Monsieur Mayor – " Javert was lost for words, almost stuttering, in a most unprofessional manner. Moments earlier, Fantine had despised him as heartily as she did her attacker; now she felt indifferent to them both.

"I'm bringing you to a hospital," said Monsieur Madeleine, walking away with his back to the crowd. "Where is your child?"

"With the Thenardiers. An innkeeper and his wife, in Montfermeil."

He was going to find Cosette. He would bring her child to her, take up the burden of caring for them both, and carry it lightly. His soul, like his body, had strength enough to spare.

For the first time since finding out she was with child, Fantine knew beyond a doubt that she – and, most importantly, Cosette – were going to be safe.


End file.
